


Reunion(s)

by fanaticfangirl



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M, Long, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 21:27:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13349844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanaticfangirl/pseuds/fanaticfangirl
Summary: Les Miserables get reincarnated. May be the first in a series.





	1. Jehan Prouvaire, forever first

**Author's Note:**

> So I'll try to post once a week, and I may write a sequel. But this fic will be completed I promise. Also I have no clue what I'm doing, so if I make any spelling errors on characters names, like Gueulemer, please tell me! Thanks

It all began with Jehan.   
The first loss, the youngest, and the first Amis to remember, though not the first reincarnation. In this strange new life, they were a young poet, 18, and on a trip to find themselves. They succeeded.  
Perhaps it was where Jehan had stumbled into, the very same cafe the Amis had spent so many nights together, drinking, gambling, and most importantly, dreaming. Or perhaps it was just Jehan, who always seemed to have their head in the clouds amd not on this Earth. No one knows why, not even Jehan, but somehow, they remembered first.   
Weaker people than Jehan would have thought themselves insane, or foolish, but Jehan knew the truth. That fate was mysterious and, one way or another, the Amis would reunite. So little Jehan hopped a train to the very center of Paris, hoping to find their friends yet again. 

Jehan looked in the mirror of the little motel room they'd got, and compared the differences. So far, their new life was much better then the first. They felt comfortable, now, with the they/them pronouns, and they looked it too. They also much preferred the clothes in this life, although Jehan had been told they had terrible fashion taste.   
That night, for example, they were wearing a yellow and green Hawaiian shirt and bright, pink corduroy. Jehan shrugged. They loved the 21st century, and wouldn't apologize for that. They had money in this life, the world wasn't hell, and if they could find their friends, they'd be perfectly happy. Jehan smiled at the mirror, and knew their friends would be accepting of their new pronouns. After all theyd already been genderfluid, they just haven't had a name for it. They lightly kissed the mirror, and sat down on the bed to write about reincarnation. The topic would certainly make some interesting poems!


	2. Azelma Thenardier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Azelma is a totally underrated character. With siblings like Gavroche and Eponine, I feel like she was amazing. So I wanted to include her in this.

Little Azelma Thenardier was actually the first to remember, 4 years before Jehan, for reasons unknown. However, unlike Jehan she pegged a certain moment as the reason she remembered. It was a turning moment in her life. She was ten years old and Eponine, her older sister, had had enough.   
In this life, Eponine was a badass. Azelma knew she'd always been a badass, but in this life, Eponine embraced it. She learned online about feminism, and powerful women, and recognized that power in herself. And one day, Eponine learned about abusive households.  
She was shocked to realize that many people were describing her household. Being forced to do grueling chores, like fix the boiler and the roof. Having things thrown at you, such as plates, and being hurt if you retaliate. Feeling threatened and unsafe, unable to fall asleep. And Eponine realized that, slowly but surely, it was fucking her and her siblings up. So it came to this. 

"I'm leaving, Papa." Eponine stated plainly to Monsieur Thenardier. Next to him was Madame Thenardier, whom Eponine was currently ignoring. Everyone knew Madame was stubborn as a mule, and would never let them go.   
"No your not, you ungrateful child." he said. "Your thirteen! You can't take care of yourself. And who will look after your siblings?"   
"So glad you asked, sir." she replied. "Seeing as how they're coming with me."   
Her tone left no room for discussion. Madame Thenardier was slowly turning purple, anger evident in her face. Eponine boldly continued.  
"I will not stand by and watch as you two fuck me and my siblings up more than we already are. You two are pathetic excuses for parents, and I am not leaving without my siblings." She finished, breathing rapidly from her boldness. She hid a proud smile.   
That was the last straw for Madame. With a roar of anger, she leapt torwards Eponine, grabbing her arm. But Eponine had been expecting this. In one smooth move, she turned Madames bodyweight against her, pushing her to the floor. She then looked up, pointing one finger at Monsieur.   
"Come after us, either of you, and I'll turn you into the police. I've been collecting blackmail against you for the past year, and you both have been very naughty. For your own good, stay far away."  
Eponine turned to the door, beckoning Azelma and Gavroche. The two youngest Thenardiers had been playing in the corner, watching the conversation with wide eyes. Both were smiling now. Gavroche, who was three, instantly ran to her, Azelma on his heels. She didn't want their parents to touch her brother, as protected him with her body. But just as they were almost to their sister, Azelma was swept up by her father. Eponine was too slow to stop him, only able to grab little Gavroche. She shoved him behind her, both simultaneously crying out for Azelma. Thenardier held his youngest daughter firmly in his arms, a long knife at her throat.   
"Now, everyone is going to come back and sit down, and we'll talk this out." he said soothingly, tightening his grip. Gavroche looked shocked, Eponine defeated. 

Azelma was terrified. Her father was holding a knife to her neck, and her siblings could leave any second. As Eponine began the trudge across the room, Azelma began to hyperventilate. And that was when it hit her like a sack of bricks.  
An image, a memory appeared in front of her. In it, she was once again locked in her fathers arms, openly sobbing. But that time, Eponine was older. She wore a poor excuse for a dress, more rags than anything else. But most importantly, that time she was walking away. 

Azelma was so caught up in the rush of memories, that she missed watching Eponine kick her fathers knife out of his hand, and announcing "Pull something like that again, and I'll kill you myself."   
She picked up Azelma, who had fallen to the floor and couldn't move, then exited. All little Azelma could do was plead with Eponine and Gavroche not to leave her with their father, abandoning her, again. Eponine didn't understand, but she swore that day she would never, ever leave Azelma or Gavroche. Ever.  
But all Azelma could see was herself trapped on a ship, her siblings dead, alone with her asshole of a father.


	3. Bossuet and Joly

Bossuet and Joly remembered a week after Jehan. Bossuet claimed that he remembered before Joly, though they couldn't be certain. Jehan found Joly first, in a hospital, in Paris. Coincidentally, the poet had broken their wrist falling from a gorgeous chestnut. It had been a gorgeous view of the sunrise, a perfect place to write poetry. In hindsight, though, perhaps only holding onto the tree with their feet was not the best idea. Joly was their doctor. The minute Jehan saw him, they knew both that Joly didn't remember, and that they couldn't lose Joly. So the two bonded. Joly was, just as Jehan had expected, completely accepting of their pronouns. After Jehan got out of the hospital, they invited Joly out for a celebratory lunch.   
"You're a really nice person," said Joly. The pair had just ordered from a kind woman with red hair. "But I feel like I know you from somewhere. Have we met before?"  
"Yes," said Jehan. "but you don't remember. Do not blame yourself, please. It was a while ago."  
A waiter came up to them with their food, but tripped over seemingly nothing. Jehan's salmon landed smack on Joly's lap, who stood up, covered in salmon. Jehan caught Joly's Caesar salad from the air, and put it down in front of them. This should be interesting.  
"I'm so, so, very sorry, sir-" said the waited, before meeting Jolys pretty brown eyes. The universe froze, both men oblivious to anything outside of each other. Their memories began to surge back, as they stared passionately into each others eyes. It was like something out of a romance novel.  
Bossuet looked the same, Jehan noted, cutting into Joly's salad. They doubted their friend would mind. They expected the two to be stuck that way for some time. Bossuet, or Laigle, was still incredibly clumsy, seemingly unlucky, and bald as an egg. His skin was a tad darker than before, but he was still one of the best men Jehan had ever met. All his friends were amazing. Joly was also similar, worrying about everything, Jehan thought, as his friends continued their staring match. The two were truly meant to be. Plus, perhaps, their mistress, Musichetta. Jehan had never met the woman, but knew that both men had loved her. Jehan hoped she had also been reincarnated, and that the three would work out.   
"Bossuet?" asked Joly after an eternity, uncertainty in his eyes.  
"Joly!" roared Bossuet, swooping his small friend into his arms, not caring at all about the salmon. Joly was in tears.  
"But, you died! And I died! We both died..."  
"And now we're back," said Jehan, happily continuing to eat. It was a very good salad. Both men turned to them, seeing them for the first time.  
"Jehan!" roared Bossuet, sweeping them up into a giant hug. Jehan happily hugged him back.   
"Jehan you idiot, you got yourself killed!" said Joly. "You were the first of us to die."  
"I know, and I don't regret it." said Jehan stubbornly. They would not regret dying for something they believed in. "It is great being alive again, though."  
"Wait, how long have you remembered?" asked Joly. Bossuet put them down, and Joly pulled them into a quick hug.   
"A week or so. Joly was the first reincarnation I've met, and now you, Laisgle. Its good that both of you are yourselves again."  
"Jehan, are you going to stay in the city?" asked Joly. Jehan had told them about their self discovery quest, earlier. Jehan considered.  
"Yes. Both of you are here, and there is something magical about this city. How old are both of you, by the way?"  
"I'm twenty." said Bossuet proudly.  
"Twenty four." said Joly. "I'm in graduate school, to be a doctor."  
"Go figure," said Bossuet, smiling proudly at his boyfriend. "Some things never change."  
The three friends exchanged phone numbers, and then Jehan parted from the couple. They knew that the two had a lot to figure out, and they could respect that. They would be alright. So Jehan returned to their hotel, to search for a place to live in Paris, their forever home.


	4. Feuilly

A month passed before the next reincarnation remembered. Joly, Jehan, and Bossuet were closer than ever, and Jehan was enjoying it. Bossuet regularly changed jobs but Jehan found a nice one as a barista at an independent coffee shop, with a sweet girl by the name of Maria. She was very pretty, but a complete badass and great at breaking up fights. One night, Laigle and Jehan were at a bar, Jehan talking casually with Bossuet as he worked. "My shifts almost over, Jehan. What do you want to do after?" asked Bossuet, serving someone a beer.   
"How about we go for a walk and visit Joly?" suggested Jehan. "He could use a break."  
"sounds great!" replied Bossuet, his face lighting up. Jehan took another sip of their cheap wine and spoke.  
"so, have you and Joly gotten together yet?"{  
Bossuet turned bright red and broke the glass in his hand. "shit," he muttered, looking for a broom. Waiting patiently for their friends response, Jehan absently braided their long hair. It was almost down to their waist at this point, and Jehan loved it. They planned to weave some flowers into it tomorrow, the same day they were going to once again explore th ecatacombs and a field nearby. They were there favorite places in the world.  
"Hi, I'm here to relieve you.....Jehan?!"  
Jehan turned to be face to face with Feuilly. He looked similar to the last time Jehan saw him, though now he was better fed, and wore a blue hat and modern clothes. He looked exhausted, same as ever. His red hair clashed terribly with the hat.   
"Oh, hello Feuilly. Its great to see you again!" said Jehan, calmly tying their hair back. They gave their old friend a broad smile. "I'm very glad you remember. Bossuet will be back in a minute, just wait."  
as if on cue, Bossuet leapt over the chipped bar counter and picked Feuilly up into a huge hug.  
"Boss!" exclaimed Feuilly, grinning. "Wheres everyone else?"  
"Its just us and Joly, so far." said Bossuet, setting him down. He beamed at the shorter man."Here, give me your number. Jehan, phone please."  
Jehan pulled out their cheap gray flipphone and passed it over. It was their third this week. The last one had fallen into a river. In one smooth move, little Jehan chugged the rest of their wine and stood. Jehan was fairly tiny compared to their friends, but stood out. Today they wore a yellow and orange shirt, with floral boots and green pants. It was their goal in life to never be 'normal'. Jehan was about 5'4, with Feuilly at 5'7 and Bossuet 6'0.   
"You haven't found Enjolras yet?" asked Feuilly, who still looked a little overwhelmed at the sudden appearance of his friends.   
"No. I assume he's with Courfeyrac and Combeferre, wherever that would be."  
"Goodnight, my fine gentlemen." said Jehan, calmly taking their phone back. "But I'm afraid I must bid you 'adieu'."  
"Where ya going, Jehan?" asked Feuilly, smiling fondly at his friend. God he'd missed them.  
"Home, then a poppy field, then the catacombs. I can't wait to see you later, Feuilly. Good Night."  
Jehan stood on their tiptoes, pecked both men on their cheeks, and then waltzed out of the bar. Feuilly chuckled and watched them go. Then he stepped behind the bar, coming face to face with Bossuet.   
"I see he hasn't changed," he said easily, picking up an empty glass.  
"Its they/them now, but you're correct. They haven't."  
Feuilly smiled.


	5. Eponine and Cosette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May be a trigger, mentions depression, self harm, and a suicide attempt.

Eponine remembered after Feuilly, almost exactly four years after her little sister. It hadn't been an easy process for poor Azelma. She had been alone with her memories since she was young, but she stayed strong. She was a Thenardier, after all. The three siblings met Rowan while on the streets of Paris, and he was honestly the only thing that kept them alive. Rowan had had been on the streets for a long time, though he never specified how long. He became an older brother to them, and was one year older than Eponine. The four of them quickly became family, a broken messed up one, but still family. Rowan was a shockingly good older brother. He taught them how to steal, something all three excelled at, and how to beg. Rowan was friends with most everyone, but Eponine liked to think that just like he saved them, they saved him.  
When he was sixteen and Eponine was fifteen, Rowan became depressed. He began to drink anything he could get his hands on, and cut. Eponine almost found out too late. around two years after he began his downward spiral, Eponine found him in a gas station bathroom, half dead. He had drunken sixteen bottles of beer, and had severe alcohol poisoning. T say it mildly, Eponine freaked. She called emergency services, and went with him to the hospital, nevermind that they couldn't possibly pay for it. She, Gavroche and Azelma stayed by his bedside all hours of the day. 

"Eponine," asked Azelma. She was now fourteen, and the first time she'd seen Rowan in this position, she'd puked. She had too many memories of corpses in the streets of Paris, and for a minute, her brother became one of them. He would not be the first person she had seen die of alcohol poisoning, but he was the only one she really knew. " Is Rowan going to die?"  
"No," said Eponine determinedly. She smelled and was exhausted and very, very angry, but she was dead set. "I will drag him back from the gates of hell if I need to. No fucking way."

A few minutes later, there were screams from down the hall. Both girls started. Gavroche was asleep nearby in a chair, and nothing would be able to wake him. Eponine stood. "Stay with your brothers." she told Azelma. "And for Rowans sake, don't leave!"  
Azelma was worried, memories floating up to the surface of a time when Eponine walked out on her. But she stayed. Eponine hadn't given her a cause for doubt yet, not when she got nightmares or acted insane, so she would trust her.  
Eponine followed the screams, in an almost dreamlike state. To her horror, their stood a a tall man who was brandishing a gun at a young blonde woman. "Please sir, I don't know what you're talking about!" she said, anger and fear in her eyes. The man looked crazed, one hand on the womans shirt. Next to them, a man was injured, blood seeping onto the white tile. He was either dead or unconscious. The young lady had tears in her eyes.  
"You little bitch," sneered the man, spitting in her face. "Why are you denying it? Don't you remember? Poor little Cosette, who chose Marius Pontmercy over me. Me! Not this time, little girl." The man laughed, a high pitched insane sound.  
"My name is Euphrasie, not Cosette." said the woman, bravery in her eyes. Eponine admired her, this girl in a blood splattered sundress, with shining blonde hair falling perfectly down her back. "and I don't know any Marius. Please, just leave. We've never met before, and if you leave now you'll most likely escape. Please don't hurt anyone else."  
"Felix!" the man screamed. "My name is Felix! Don't you remember me?"  
Eponine had had enough. The other girl clearly needed help, though she was plenty brave. "Hey asshole!" she yelled, putting her hands up to get his attention. "Leave her alone."  
The man turned, anger in his eyes, and pointed the gun at her chest. Just as he was pulling the trigger, the girl, Cos, hit him in the balls. The shot went wild, hitting Eponines hand instead of stomach. It may have only been her hand, but Eponine felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Because this....this had happened before. But she'd been saving Marius, not Euphrasie, right?

Dimly, Eponine heard shouts but she didn't pay them any attention, falling to the floor. She was too far gone in her first life.   
An hour later, she woke up. Cosette was the first thing she saw. She and Gavroche were sitting at her bedside, looking concerned. Faintly, Eponine remembered Cosette. But she also knew that she couldn't hate her. After all, she no longer loved Marius. If she ever truly had.  
"Oh, you're awake!" said Cosette pleasantly. Eponine smiled at her.  
"Hey, Cosette."  
"Euphrasie, actually." she said, reaching out to take Eponines good hand. Eponine took it, looking the other girl in the eye. She spoke.  
"And my name is Eponine."  
Cosette froze, memories swirling into her mind of a cute, brown haired boy, saying 'Her name was Eponine. And she saved my life, more than once. She is one of the reasons I am here, Cosette.' She remembered growing up with the Thenardiers, and being jealous of Eponine. She remembered her father, at the time a convict, and marrying Marius, the love of her life. She recalled his stories of his friends. 

"Eponine, whats wrong with her?" asked Gavroche, breaking Cosette out of her thoughts. Eponine smiled. Cosette seemed great. With a bit of luck, she'd forgive her for the events of their past life, and they could grow close.   
"Cosette will be fine, Gav. Can you go and tell Azelma I'm up, please?"  
"Pretty sure her name is Euphrasie, sis."  
"Gav."  
"Fine. But don't do something like that again." Gavroche went, but only because Eponine rarely said please. Something weird was going on. And he was going to find out what.   
"Your Eponine Thenardier." Cosette said, finally.  
"Yup."  
"Do you remember?"  
"Yup. Will you forgive me for all the shit I put you through?"  
"Yup." Cosette said teasingly. "You were a kid, Eponine. We both were. Its over. We've changed."  
"Thank you. I take it the man who shot me was someone who remembered too?"  
"Correct. He was someone from my past, a sort of ex. I presumed we ended it well, but..I suppose I was wrong. Hows your hand?"  
Eponine checked and gasped. Her hand was almost completely wrapped in gauze, but she could still see the tips. The asshole had blown off her pinkie! Great.  
"I'll live. How are you?"  
"Ok. Just, I blame myself. If that man hadn't come along, you'd be just fine-"  
"Don't. That guy was clearly insane. And I'm still truly sorry."  
"So am I."  
"Are we even, then?"  
"Sure." said Cosette. "Not to mention friends, now."  
"Should I call you Euphrasie?"  
" No. You can stick with Cosette. It sounds more natural, in this time. I'd like to get to know you better, Eponine. Can we meet up after this?"  
"Of course!" Eponine stood. Cosette looked confused, and tried to push her back down. "And where do you think you're going?"  
"My hand is fine, Cosette. It'll heal. I need to find my siblings and check on my brother, then get us out of here."  
"Why?" asked Cosette, looking incredibly concerned. Her hand was still on Eponines chest, and she seemed to have forgotten about it.   
"I can't pay for this hospital visit." said Eponine, unashamed. She was poor, it sucked, she'd gotten over it.  
"Let me do it?" said Cosette insistently. Eponine made a face.  
"What? No!"  
"I owe you a debt, Eponine."  
"Asnd I owe you one, we've gone over this."  
"I owe you two debts, since you saved Marius. Consider me paying for all of this settlement for that one. I have the money. Understand?"  
Eponine raised her eyebrows, but nodded. She then stepped out of her new friends path to go check on her siblings.


	6. Combeferre

It wasn't surprising to anyone that Combeferre was the first of the main trio to remember. The main trio, being Enjolras the leader, Courfeyrac the light, and Combeferre the scholar. Naturally, the scholars moment of truth was while reading.  
He was in his second year of university, a History Major. He hoped to be a professor, since he loved hte subject so much. He was flipping through a fascinating book he'd pulled off the bottom library shelf, about lesser known but important parts of Frances history. Some topics he knew, but the ones he didn't were interesting. He paused while flipping through the book at an event by the name of the June Rebellion of 1832.   
Some part of him, an instinct that he usually ignored, told him that this was important. That he had to read it. Thinking that it couldn't hurt, Combeferre focused fully on the page.  
The description didn't name anyone, just said that it was helpful in the French Rebellion, one of the main causes, and that it had been started by university students. It struck a cord in Combeferre. He wanted to know more about this Rebellion, needed it more than anything else in his life. Though he found it a bit strange, he was never one to deny himself knowledge. Pulling out his phone, an old but functional one, he Googled the Rebellion. He found out the leader was a man by the name of Enjolras, who was recognized by two surviving pictures of the rebellion by an unknown artist. He opened the pictures, and found a rough sketch of a beautiful man, looking down at the viewer in fury. Though the picture was done in pencil, Combeferre knew somehow that the man had beautiful blonde hair and his coat was red. A halo surrounded him, and he looked like a god, furious but gorgeous.   
The second picture was in color, and was a painting of the blonde man preaching to several other people. He looked gorgeous and passionate, arms stretched out and with a pin near his breast. The backs of peoples heads were painted, with only one face pointed to the viewer. From left was a man with a bald head, arm over the man to his left with short brown hair. Near them, all seated, was a bulky man with broad shoulders, head tilted a little. Near him was a man with a cap and short red hair, intently focused on the leader. Next to him was a boy, face half to the viewer, a mischievous smile on his dirty face. His blonde hair shone a little, but was matted. Then was a man with long red hair, braided at his back, wearing a colorful shirt. Lastly, came the two others focused on the viewer. Combeferre saw, to his shock, his own face. He was without glasses, and his hair was longer, but it was clearly him. He got another jolt when he looked at the man sitting on the far right, at his side. He was incredibly attractive and shorter than him, with curly brown hair and a sweet smile. He had on a brown and red vest, and was staring both at Enjolras and Combeferrre. Taking a deep breath, Combeferre left the paintings and went back to the page. 

He read the death toll. 'Among the dead,' said the text 'Was nine of the leaders of Les Amis de'l ABC. Besides Enjolras, their leader, was Jehan the poet' The boy with long red hair and with his head almost permanently stuck in the clouds   
'L'Aigle, a law student' The bald man, known to his friends as Bossuet,  
'Combeferre, a doctors apprentice and Enjolras's right hand' That wasn't possible,  
'Joly, a medical student, and Courfeyrac, another law student. Three of the other leaders were unable to be identified, though one of them is supposedly the artist of the paintings (above left).'  
It was Courfeyrac's name that opened the flood gates, naturally. Only Courfeyrac had that kind of influence on him. Combeferre, overcome with memories, put his head on the table. He was a man of logic, reason, in both lives and this was impossible. But..to him, Courfeyrac and Enjolras and all of the Les Amis were much more important than anyone in this life. Combeferre made a decision. He had to find his friends, both to prove to himself that he wasn't insane and to get his family back. Combeferre pushed his brown glasses up, probably the only thing about him that had changed since 1832. And the fact that his hair was shaved on the side a bit. He hoped the others hadn't changed dramatically, especially Courfeyrac. He cared about them all just the way they were.


End file.
